


Smile

by navyhurricane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Drink Spiking, Mutual Pining, Praise Kink, Sexual Harassment, Smut, Top Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-02-15 21:32:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13039848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navyhurricane/pseuds/navyhurricane
Summary: After a night at the bar goes wrong, Lance goes home with Keith for some care, cuddles, and loving. Luckily, Keith is just the person to give it to Lance.





	Smile

**Author's Note:**

> Hey kids
> 
> Soo I haven’t updated anything for a long time, mostly cuz I’ve been busy and stuff. This fic itself has some of my only motivation for the past few weeks, so I hope you enjoy
> 
> Ps- 
> 
> Just a slight warning for mention of rape, date-rape drugs

   Lance and Keith have a weird relationship. Sometimes they’re the best friend you could ever find, sometimes they fight over the smallest things and don’t talk to each other for a week, and sometimes they wake up hungover and naked in one of their beds. They don’t mention those intances. Their friends don’t know those instances happen more than they realize. They doesn't know that Lance especially treasures those instances. 

   Okay, so pining after your sometimes best friend and friends half-brother isn’t the best. Having to see Keith everyday or have his contact info in Lance’s phone makes it hard to not constantly text him or touch him or just _have_ him. Lance surpassed all the shame and embarrassment of wanting Keith romantically as well as sexually a long time ago. Probably about the same time he discovered his bisexuality. Coincidence? Probably not.

   So, when it comes to SNBT (Saturday Night Bar Time, as Lance and Pidge so graciously named) and the entire squad is going as per usual, and Lance knows that Keith is going to be wearing the same clothes as yesterday and since they all don’t work tomorrow, praise the lords, Keith is probably going to get very drunk. With Hunk in the drivers seat and Pidge in the back, the drive to The Balmera is completed with Lance’s decision to get laid tonight, and with somebody other than Keith.

 

            ~~~

 

   Lance taps his black painted nails on the counter of the bar, waiting for the drink that Shay quickly and perfectly makes him. The girls bobbed forest green hair lets the giant gold hoops gleam under as they dangle from her ears. Her dark skin is highlighted by the white button up shirt, sleeves rolled up and buttons slightly undone comfortably. A gold necklace sits around her neck. The locket has a picture of her family in it, courtesy of Hunk. (They’re dating, and probably one of the cutest couples on the block.)

   Shay sets a tall blue and white tinged drink down in front of Lance, a red straw sticking out of it. She smiles kindly at Lance before moving on to the next person. Lance smiles back before sucking a mouthful of the blueberry juiced vodka out through the straw, relishing the taste. The Blue Lion is probably his favourite drink, with the Red Lion a close second. There’s five in total, and are the Balmera’s special mix. Pretty neat.

   Lance spins slightly on his barstool, scoping out the entirety of the bar. In the far left corner, his friends are set up at a round table, watching as Allura tries the new drinks people ordered. She always makes the best reactions to sour, rough, or overly sweet drinks. The dark wooden walls behind them are decorated with blue fairy lights, strung in lines and loops. They carry out onto the dance floor area, where music thrums and people writhe. Lance likes to go there the odd time. It’s fun to grind on a sexy stranger, or let one dance on you; sometimes Lance gets their number, but mostly it’s just dance, laugh, and move on.

   Lance leans one elbow on the low backing of his stool. His baggy patched jean jacket isn’t heavy, and the white shirt he’s got underneath is spotless. The sleeves of the jacket are rolled up, and he’s got a bunch of black bracelets on one wrist. The plain black choker on his neck is oddly cute, and the black chain with a yin and yang dips lower than a normal necklace, but doesn’t get caught on things, luckily. Lance probably stole it from Allura, and just never gave it back. Oops. It’s one of his favourite outfits. Lance sips on his drink, tapping his white sneakers on a stool rung and playing with one of the multiple piercings in his ears. 

   When Lance first got to the bar, Hunk immediately bolted for his girlfriend and Pidge left him to run and jump into Shiro’s arms. They always said that the muscular but beyond kind man would always catch them, and Shiro hasn’t failed yet. Lance was left alone to check in with his friends - Allura, Matt, Shiro, and obviously, Keith - and get some drinks for them. Lance had memorized all the drinks at the Balmera, so he can normally tell what each person needs at that moment. Pidge always orders something green in colour and towards the environment, Matt is pretty adaptable, and Hunk likes anything Shay makes.

   While he was taking his friends orders, he couldn’t help but notice  that Keith was wearing the same white NASA shirt as yesterday (he fucking called it), complete with the leather jacket and maroon beanie. Lance knows that if he glances under the table, he’ll see black skinny jeans that fit Keith’s ass perfectly and maroon Converse. Typical Keith. Fucking handsome Keith. 

   When Keith orders a Red Lion, Lance mutters both under his breath as he walks away.

   Now, Lance sweeps his navy gaze over the crowd in the bar. It’s not too packed, but it’s tight enough that balancing a tray of shots would be seriously dangerous if you weren’t practised. Good. There should be some cuties in here. Lance glances to the left, not meaning to do so, wandering right into the piercing ash mauve eyes Lance wants so much. 

   Heat flashes through Lance had both sets widen, and blink quickly away. Fuck, he’s not supposed to be looking for Keith! He’s supposed to be finding a nice lay, a bed warmer. But as he looks harder, none of the possibilities have the right build, or don’t have dark or fluffy enough hair, or the offset grey irises aren't the right colour. Fuck him sideways, he’s just looking for Keith in all of them. Maybe he should just give up. Lance turns back to the right, when-

   “Hey, you look a little sad for this place.” Lance jerks out of his thoughts and focuses on the handsome face right in front of him. Hazel eyes meet Lance’s, and a small smile sneaks onto his face. Maybe he won’t have to find someone. Maybe they’ll come right to him.

   “Nah, I’m just looking.” Lance directs a flirty smile towards the tall man in front of him, eyes travelling up and down over him. Bleach blond long hair, no stubble, a pair of Timberlands with dark jeans, a purple Henley, and a not quite middle aged face. He’s got to be maybe 25, 30 tops. 

   The man leans on the bar, perfect teeth showing in a smile that replicates Lance’s. “Can I help you at all?”

   “I think you might.”

 

            ~~~

 

   Lance throws his head back laughing, cheeks aching from smiling and head thick from the drinks he’s been sucking down. He nearly falls off his stool, where he’s been for the past half hour talking to Lotor, spelled L O T O R because somehow, Lotor said he just needed to know.

   Lotor likes boating, fishing, and waterskiing. He is 27, single, has a dog named Baxen, and is definitely interested in Lance. 

   However, Lance can feel the eyes on his back whenever Lotor cracks a joke, and he can feel his entire groups eyes when Lotor buys him another drink. Lance can hold his liquor, but holy shit, he’s lost count of how many Blue Lions and Crystal Lives he’s drank. There was one time when Lance spun slowly around on his chair, facing away from Lotor for a few seconds before nearly falling off his chair and laughing as he comes back around. Lance is slurring slightly and getting his thoughts a little mixed up, but he’s not so far gone to not know what he’s doing. So when Lotor makes a bold move, Lance knows.

   Lotor steps in extremely close, nearly shoving Lance’s legs apart to stand between them. Their crotches are inches apart. Hey, where’d Lance’s jacket go? Lotor must have helped him take it off sometime. That’s weird. Lotor also teaches up to play with Lance’s necklace, fingers brushing his collar.

   Now, it’s not like there hasn’t been some lingering touches during the flirting, but none quite like this. Also, Lotor gave no warning to what he was going to do, just took what he wanted from a guy he met, what, an hour ago? What time is it anyways? Lance feels some of the attraction he has for the man shrivel. Suddenly, those hazel eyes are looking more dangerous than he wants. Hey, why is the room blurring?

   “So, you wanna get out of here?” Lotor tugs on Lance’s necklace, which makes it bite into his neck, which makes Lance jerk towards. Towards Lotor’s face. His breath smells like rum, and Lance fights the instinct that makes him want to curl away. He couldn’t, anyways; Lotor has him trapped close.

   Lance smirks weakly, feeling the room tilt slightly. He tries to subtly push Lotor away, hands splaying on a chest that isn’t as muscular feeling as Lotor boasted it to be. Lance feels nerves and something else spark in his gut. Maybe it’s uncomfortableness, maybe it’s disgust. Maybe it’s fear. 

   “Sorry, I have to go to my friends first. Be right back.” Lance wasn’t planning on coming back. As much as he wanted to get Laid, he wasted forty minutes on a guy that ended up freaking him out. Any other possibility probably saw him flirting with Lotor and crossed him out as an option. Dammit.

   When Lance moves to get up, Lotor sneers slightly, shoving Lance back on the stool. It’s small, nearly impossible to see if you weren’t watching, but Lance feels his stomach churn and his lungs close. Fuck, he’s scared now. Lotor looks like he’s gonna hurt Lance, when seconds ago he looked like Lance hung the stars. 

   “What, don’t you wanna leave with me?” Lotor pushes into Lance’s space again, moving a hand from Lance’s forearm to his hip. Lance stiffens, a hard shudder going up his spine; he doesn’t like this, not at all. Suddenly, it’s cold in the bar and he can’t breathe. No, he doesn't like this at all. “Come on, I bought you all those drinks, baby boy, don’t you wanna repay me? I mean, I’m not asking for much. Just that sweet ass loose on my bed, a blowjob. _Both_.”

   Lance feels the blood drain from his face, and as much as he struggles, he can’t muster the strength to push Lotor away. Fuck, fuck _fuck_ _fuck_! 

   Lance doesn’t make eye contact with Lotor, just looks over his shoulder at the table where his friends-

   The table is empty.

    _The table is empty_.

   Lance nearly starts crying then, feeling the hopelessness as large hands pull him off the stool by the hips and almost drag him towards the exit by the bathrooms. Lance stumbles, and Lotor swears at him, saying something about his uselessness and how he should just shut up and let him fuck him. He _did_ buy him all those drinks. Lance doesn’t hear; he’s too busy looking for Shiro, for Matt, for Shay, for Keith. _Where’s Keith?_

   Keith would always step in if he saw Lance being harassed by somebody, whether it was at the bar or in public because Lance painted his nails white that day, or he wore makeup. Keith would put an end to the rude fucker with a glare or a clever comeback, wrap his arm around Lance's shoulders, and let them walk away like the badasses they are. _But where is he now?_

   They near the bathroom doors, and Lance takes the chance to stall. “Hey, I’m gonna go in here quick, okay? I’ll be, like, two minutes.” Lance pushes at Lotor’s hands but to no avail. Lance looks up into nearly angry eyes, and whimpers. He’s mad. Why is he mad? Is he going to hurt Lance? _Wait, why are we still going for the door? I don’t wanna leave with him! No, no, no, take me back! I don’t wanna! Fuck, where’s my group?! Where’s Keith?!_

   Lance let’s out a high pitched whine, distracting Lotor momentarily so he loses his grip. Sadly, that means Lance falls and trips over a shoe or a glass or something hard on the floor that makes Lance come crashing down. Over the music, you couldn’t hear it.

   If Lotor was mad before, he’s engraged now. He reaches for Lance, roughly grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet before slamming him against the wall. Lance cries out, and feels the first tears slide down his face when a thigh is roughly ground into his groin. Lance can’t even push him away. His head feels thick and he can’t get control of his limbs. It’s like that time in high school when he got shitfaced with a few friends and decided to add weed and some other shit to the mix. Fuck, he doesn’t feel drunk. He feels _drugged_.

   Lotor leans in close and uses the tip of his tongue to play with one of Lance’s piercings. “Such a good baby boy, hm? Gonna be so fucking nice on my cock.” Lotor’s hand dips low, and Lance cries softly. Lance shakes his head, and the lights blur. Why doesn’t someone help him?!

   All he can see is angry hazel, but then suddenly there’s maroon bobbing in the corner of his vision.

   “Get the fuck off him!”

   Lotor disappears from Lance’s eyes, his leg is removed from between Lance’s, his dominating hands are gone. They’re all replaced with Keith. 

   Keith, who throws Lotor on the ground and kicks him square in the back.

   Keith, who picks him back up and shoved him towards the fucking angry security, aka Shiro and Shay’s brother Rax.

   Keith, who melts when he sees Lance and pulls his leather jacket off immediately to wrap around Lance’s shoulders, enveloping the terrified boy in a blanket of Keith.

   Keith, who steps carefully close to Lance and gently tips his chin up so navy meets mauve. Keith looks like he’s going to cry. Lance would probably join him all over again. “Lance, are you okay?”

   Lance shudders, before lunging forwards to bury his head in Keith’s neck, chest heaving as he inhales big gulps of Keith’s scent on every sobbing breath. He nods, fingers grabbing at whatever he can find of Keith’s. Lance can feel Keith’s erratic heartbeat against him, matching his own, and uses it to calm himself down. Keith murmurs soft things into Lance’s hair, resting a light hand on Lance’s back over the jacket. Lance pushes impossibly closer to Keith, right there in the hallway of the Balmera. It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

 

            ~~~

 

   Lance would love to say he went home with Keith on good terms. He would love to retell how they danced and laughed and shared stories. He would love if they left the bar and called a cab and had fun drunk sex at Keith’s and woke up to slight hangovers and morning kisses. He would love it. But instead, it went like this. 

   Shiro and Rax banned Lotor from the Balmera and called other bars in the area to warn them about him. His entire group left the bar with a warning and a thanks to Shay and her brother. Hunk stayed with them. Shiro was in charge of driving Pidge, Matt, and Allura home, and Keith had Lance. Or, more like Lance had Keith. The boy had a tight grip on the others hand and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. Keith drove with one hand, the other clenched in Lance’s hold.

   Keith kept glancing at Lance as streetlights illuminated his tan face with blurs of red and white and everything in between. Lance looked disoriented, and his lips kept moving as though he was whispering, but he never made a sound. Keith can feel his heart break for the boy next to him, and presses a little harder on the accelerator of his car.

   They reach Keith’s building in about ten minutes, the yellow lights of the underground garage making both boys look sick. Keith pulls into his parking space, and shuts the car off awkwardly with his left hand. The music in the background is silenced, and the soothing hum of the engine disappears. Lance doesn’t move. 

   Keith squeezes his hand once. “Lance, let me out. I’ll come around and get you.” Lance glances sharply at Keith, hesitates, and reluctantly remove some his hand from the middle console, where their joined fingers were the entire ride home. Keith’s palm instantly feels cold, and he regrets letting go as he leaps from the car, runs around the hoods, and opens Lance’s door. It’s not cold, but Lance is still shivering under Keith’s jacket. Wasn’t he wearing one when he got to the bar?

   “Okay, Lance. Up we go.” Keith grabs onto Lance’s wrists, careful to keep his head from hitting the roof of the car, and pulls Lance onto him. The boys full weight falls on him as Keith pushes the door shut and locks it. Lance has burrowed into the crook of his neck like it’s his permanent place of residence. 

   Keith snakes his hand down to tangle his fingers with Lance’s; a comforting measure, he tells himself, as he maneuvers Lance towards the stairwell into the main building. 

   Lance is still quite drunk, so when they get to the stairs, it’s a bit of a struggle. Fuck, why does Keith have to live on the third floor? The raven haired boy thinks this bitterly when Lance’s foot slips again and Keith has to stop to fix his shoe. Fuck, why is this boy so adorable? Why does he have to constantly be right there? Why did this have to happen to him? 

   Keith pulls Lance over his back without a thought in front of his door, digging in his jean pockets for the key. It’s not there. He can feel Lance heat at his back. Frowning, Keith checks his back pockets too, but they’re empty. Where are his keys?!

   “ _Cariño_ , in here...” Lance mumbles, he mumbles directly into Keith’s ear, and Keith hears metal clinking when Lance rustles the pocket of Keith’s jacket. Oh. Keith grits his teeth, ignoring the flash of heat that runs down his spine, and reaches back to shove his hand in the pocket. He doesn’t realize how close his hand is to Lance’s hip.

   Keith unlocks the door, stumbling inside with Lance. The fan is on, the lights are all off, and the plain white walls carry their shadows to the living room, where Keith drops Lance off on the couch. Lance’s head rests between the couch cushions on the back, since Keith was accurate and sat him right in the middle of the sofa. Keith leans over him to turn the lamp on on the side table, and quickly moves back when Lance’s breath hits his neck.

   Soft light washes over Lance’s features as he blinks owlishly, navy irises glazed and looking mildly pale in the face. Keith frowns. “Lance, are you gonna puke?” Lance groans noncommittally. Keith is hesistant to leave him, but quickly runs to the kitchen for an empty ice cream bucket in case Lance throws up. There’s no way Keith can drag his lanky form down the hallway fast enough for them to hit the toilet.

   Now the fun part. With the light of his kitchen and the lamp, Keith kneels by Lance’s feet and pulls one sneaker into his lap. Keith silently pulls the laces loose, and slips the shoe and sock off. He does the same to Lance’s other foot. How the boy manages to keep the shoes so clean will forever be a mystery.

   Keith rocks up onto both knees, easily reaching all of Lance only because he’s slouched into the couch. Keith pats Lance’s cheek, the bucket falling off his lap. It’s for Oreo ice cream, Keith notices abbesntly; Lance’s favourite. “Lance, hey, buddy. Stay awake.” Lance’s eyes roll under the lids, and he moans. Keith’s frown grows, and he pulls the bucket even closer. How much did he drink?

   Keith was always watching Lance. It came naturally, whether it was a thing of adoration or protection. When Lance was gushing over the ocean and surfing and marine animals, Keith watched. When Lance was looking for a new lay at a bar, Keith watched. The one time he leaves his spot and looks away from Lance to help Rax and Shiro with a drunk that didn’t want to leave the bar and started harassing Shay, that one time he glances away, Lance needs his help. And he didn’t help him.

   Keith grits his teeth, pulling Lance carefully forwards by the back of his neck and shoulders so that his forehead leans on Keith’s own shoulder, right in that crook of his neck. Lance mumbles something incoherent, and Keith shushes him gently. “If you puke on me, you’re cleaning it up.” Keith obviously doesn’t mean it, it’s just words that he keeps feeding Lance to make sure the regular air isn’t overpowered by the depresing and anxiety filled one. Lance makes a small sound, somehow sounding indignant regardless of his current situation.

   Lance tries to help Keith in taking the leather jacket off his shoulders, and then hums into Keith’s skin when Keith pulls the necklaces and bracelets off him. It’s slow, it’s silent, it’s intimate, and it would be better if Lance hadn’t almost been assaulted. Fuck, he basically was.

   Keith grits his teeth and cuts that thought out. He pulls throw pillows from the couch around him to prop Lance up for the few seconds he races to his own room, rifling through his drawers for the pair of sweats that Shiro bought him two sizes too big. Keith makes it back to the living room in record time, crouching back in front of Lance just to see the boys eyes slip closed. 

   “Fuck, Lance, come on!” Keith drops the sweats on Lance’s knee, grabbing his face with both hands. Lance groans incoherently. Keith growls in frustration. “Wake up, please, just wake up!” This isn’t how Lance acts when he’s drunk. Normally he’s touching whatever he can or babbling about something in Spanish. Did that bastard slip him something?!

   Keith whines low in his throat, and opts for just getting Lance out of his shirt and pants so he’s left in his boxer briefs, blue obviously, and pulls Lance over his shoulder so he can lift his slim hips enough to wiggle the sweatpants up his thighs. Keith grunts when Lance shifts an elbow into his ribs, but freezes when Lance gags and retches just over his head. A wet feeling drapes itself over his back.

   “S’ry, Keith.”

   “It’s okay. Let’s just get you to bed.”

 

            ~~~

 

   Keith throws the shirt soaked with vomit in the washer to rinse before washing it, and shucks his pants off before climbing into the shower for a few minutes. Short showers are his specialty. However, this time Keith let’s the water pound on his back for a minute longer.

   Lance is asleep in his bed, Keith having forced him to drink a water bottle and set him up on his side. No meds, yet, obviously. Keith will give him some in the morning. Lance had been moderately awake when Keith literally tucked him in to the red blankets, grasping at his jeans pockets and muttering something Keith couldn’t hear. All he did was promise to be right back and leapt into the shower, where he is now, brooding and mildly procrastinating getting out. 

   Keith sighs, and shuts the water off. He quickly dries his body off and lets his hair out of the ponytail he put it in to avoid getting wet. Lance - luckily - didn’t puke in his hair, and he just washed it this morning. Keith pulls a pair of boxers and sweats on in the dim light of the bathroom, forgoing a shirt, and hangs his towel up before leading himself around his apartment. He quickly locks the door and windows and shuts the lamp off before heading back to his bedroom.

   Lance is in the same position that Keith set him up in, face still flushed but relaxed. He mutters again when Keith crawls into bed next to him, settling again when Keith soothes him without a thought. It’s warm, Lance’s forehead, when Keith runs his fingers over it. Brown hair is brushed back, and a soft kiss is placed on the sleeping boys temple. 

   “Goodnight, Lance.”

 

            ~~~

 

   Keith wakes up twice during the night to Lance puking. He immediately reaches over and holds the bucket closer, rubs on his warm back. Keith comforts him with small noises or words, much like a mother would, only this is the love of his life and Lance doesn’t even know it. Keith rinses the bucket out both times, sets it back on the nightstand both times, and soothes Lance and himself back to sleep both times.

   This time, when Keith wakes up to sunlight streaming into his room, his first thought is to check on Lance. Keith reaches over, reaches so his hand lands on Lance’s bare rib cage. Keith feels it rise and fall. He doesn’t move for a few seconds, losing himself in the rhythm of Lance’s breathing. He stares at the circular light on the ceiling before summoning the motivation to sit up. 

   The blankets fall off him and into his lap, pulling them farther off Lance. Keith turns, watching as the sunlight that sneaks through his curtains lights up Lance’s face softly. It seems to caress his skin, even going to far to kindly awaken the boy. When Lance shifts closer to Keith, the latter realizes he didn’t remove his hand from Lance’s side. Whatever.

   “Lance,” Keith whispers, “Hey, it’s time to get up.” Lance scrunches his nose and moved impossibly closer. His head is almost on Keith’s lap now. Keith allows a somber smile onto his face. He brushes Lance’s hair back, identical to last night. Only, he can’t kiss Lance again. 

   “Keith...?” Keith softly nudges Lance’s cheek with his knuckles, drawing a dramatic grunt from Lance. The boy seems to try to flop away from him, but groans halfway through and curls into himself. “Fuck, I’m hurting everywhere.”

   Keith follows Lance’s movements with his hand on his head. Keith draws random shapes on his temple. Sighing, Keith pulls himself away and gets up. Lance drags his head up, staring at him with bloodshot navy eyes. “Where’re you going?” 

   Keith stretches, twisting his back and raising his arms high. He yawns. “Going to make breakfast. How does French toast sound?” Lance shrugs, and lowers his head back into the place where Keith was, obviously taking advantage of the warmth. Keith bites back a smile; fuck, he’s just too cute.

   Keith scratches the back of his head as he walks into his kitchen, only mildly groggy from his sleep. He didn’t drink anything last night, so he has no semblance of a hangover, unlike Lance. However, Keith firmly believes that Lance was slipped something, but there’s no way to tell, is there? It’s the day after, there’s hardly a chance Lance remembers the bastard, and they have no proof. Keith blows out a breath that moves his dark bangs, and presses a few buttons on his coffee machine. When dark liquid starts to hit the bottom of the coffee pot, he reaches over to open the fridge. 

   Quickly, Keith soaks the bread slices in his wet mixture that took him like two minutes to make, and drops it in the pan on the stove. Soft sizzling fills the quiet kitchen, and does so for the next few minutes until Lance drags himself out of the bedroom. Keith glances over his shoulder at him, eyeing the blanket thrown over his head amusedly. “Morning, sunshine.” Lance sits down in one of the island stools and drops his head down on the cool counter. Keith turns back to his stove when he catches the dark circles under navy eyes. “There’s coffee, if you want some.”

   “Yeah...please.” Lance pulls the blanket tighter around his head as Keith turns the stove off. Multitasking, Keith slides the toast out of the pan onto a plate with other slices and reaches into his cupboard with his free hand for two mugs. Keith reaches back up for the sugar, and pours some into both mugs, but considerably more into Lance’s. Keith absently noticed that the mugs are baby blue and maroon coloured. He seems to do that a lot. Just notice small things that have to do with Lance.

   Keith also grabs the milk from the fridge, a small carton because he can’t drink it because he’s lactose intolerant but he buys it because Lance is here. He’s always somewhere near Keith’s house. Sometimes Keith’ll get a text that a hookup failed and Lance needs a place to crash, or he had nightmares and didn’t want to be alone, or he was on a bender. Anyways, he normally stays the night and demands milk in his coffee, so now Keith buys it. Sue him.

   Keith pours steaming liquid in both mugs,  setting the blue on down in front of Lance. Revived by the smell of caffeine and heaps of sugar, Lance picks his head up andnd takes a deep whiff of the mugs contents. “Thanks, Keith.”

   When Keith slides a plate with French toast garnished with powdered sugar, syrup, and strawberries in front of the boy, Lance thanks him again before digging in. French toast seems to be the one thing he can eat hungover, and Keith has no problem making it for him if it means he eats. Keith cuts a small piece off the corner of his own toast with the side of his fork before stabbing a strawberry as well. He doesn’t normally eat in the mornings; breakfast is normally around noon for him. 

   The kitchen resumes it’s neutral atmosphere, silent except for the occasional slurp of coffee or the scratch of a fork against a plate. Sun streams through Keith’s outer window into his kitchen; he got the lucky end of the building, so he gets windows along the very back of his flat and the side. It helps cut down on his electricity if he depends on natural light during the day.

   The white hardwood floors are spotless, and the black granite countertop is sprinkled with powdered sugar. There’s dishes in the sink and a spot of egg and milk mixture where Keith set the fork down. The fan in the bathroom can barely be heard, and somebody in the flat above Keith seems to have dropped something. Keith leans against the counter between the fridge and stove, and Lance has let the blanket fall around the stool and over his lap. It’s like last night, when Keith was helping get Lance ready for bed; it’s so natural. It feels like he’s done this for years. It feels like home.

   Keith glances at Lance over the top of his mug. Lance has a spot of sugar on the corner of his lips, he’s squinting at the light though it’s not directly on him, but he looks beautiful to Keith. Yeah. He’s home. 

   Home is interrupted when Lance pushes away the plate, and Keith sighs. He has to ruin the sated look on his face by addressing the stupid elephant in the room.

   “Lance,” Keith hesistates, “do you remeber what happened last night?”

   When Lance tenses up, Keith knows he’s got his attention. He sets his empty coffee mug down by the sink before gathering Lance and his plates. “Wanna go to the couch?”

   Lance doesn’t answer, just stands up and shuffles his way to the living room, where he was nearly passing out hours prior. Keith follows in silence after grabbing Lance’s deserted mug. Even under the blanket, Keith can see the tense shoulders, imagine the tight lines of his muscles.

   Sitting and leaning on one of the arms of the couch, Lance curls his long legs up to the side and seems surprised that Keith brought his coffee with him. He just reaches for it and wraps his fingers around it, staring into the lighter liquid. Keith settles on the arm of the other sofa, letting his eyes gently roam over Lance. Fuck, he doesn’t want to ruin this. 

   Keith swallows. “How much do you remember from last night?”

   Lance shrugs and studies something to the side of Keith. “I don’t know. I remember getting tons of drinks from a guy named Lotor.” Keith tenses. That’s a start. “He was handsome, and he had a dog. We were by the bar the entire time...right?”

   Keith sighs, and gets up only to sit down right beside Lance. He takes a leap of faith and pulls the blanketed boy into his arms and against his chest. Lance sucks in a breath before releasing it shaky, relaxing into Keith. Keith plays with Lance’s hair with one hand, seeking out his his hand with the other. Screw what Lance thinks. Keith knows he’s gonna need the support, but he doesn’t know if he’s talking about himself or Lance.

   “Do you want to hear what I know?”

   Lance nods against Keith’s collarbone; he’s completely tucked into Keith’s embrace. He loves it.

   “Our group was sitting at the regular table the entire night. We could all see you, we could see that guy. Lotor. He started buying drinks for you, like, a lot of drinks. More than even Shay could handle. I don’t know, maybe he slipped you something when one of us wasn't looking directly at you or he did it when he bought you a new drink.” Keith adjusts Lance’s hand and covers the back of it with his own, twining their fingers together and using their arms to pull Lance closer and tighter. He buries his head into the crook of Lance’s neck, not giving one shit about the consequences that may follow. 

   “The only time one of us left that table was to either dance, get drinks, or once when Rax and Shiro needed help. I don’t know why the rest didn’t stay at the table. Maybe they were in the bathrooms,” Keith huffs a sad laugh into Lance’s skin. He’s shaking. “When I got back to the table, you were gone. Fuck, I couldn’t find you _anywhere_. You never leave without texting or telling someone, so why would it be different this time? I must have called your name so many times people thought that I was crazy. I was going crazy. Then I saw you.”

   Keith is glad that he’s occupying his hands; he would have ripped the blanket with how hard we wants to clench them. But instead, they’re touching Lance and that’s much better. He could never hurt Lance. “You were pressed into the wall by that fucker by the bathrooms, crying and trying to push him away. He w-“ Keith swallows. “He w-was grinding on you or something, and his mouth was close to your ear and I just reacted.”

   Keith stops talking. Lance is trembling. Keith brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Hey, you okay?”

   Lance heaves in an unsteady breath, and snuggles deeper into Keith. He’s sitting side ways on Keith’s lap now, the blanket tangled round his knees and arms wrapped around himself. Keith sees that the hand he isn’t holding is clenched, nails digging into his palm. 

   Keith let’s go if Lance’s hand for a split second. He grabs the arm Lance has around himself and wraps it around his own waist. Lance grabs onto his bare skin, just under his ribcage, and Keith swears he felt the hot liquid of blood on his palm. Keith grabs Lance’s left hand now, tangling their fingers. Keith strokes Lance’s hair, arm resting along his bare spine. Lance inhales deeply. 

   “Keep going.”

   “Okay.”

   Keith adjusts Lance so that they can sit more comfortably, grabbing the blanket and pulling it over their heads. The sunlight is blocked out, and suddenly they’re sharing breaths. One drunk night, Lance told a much more sober Keith that he liked the dark and it was where he went to clam down after a breakdown or something. Keith remembers that, that special moment when Lance blessed him with a fact of his life.

   “I pulled him off you, punched him, kicked him, threw him away from you. Shiro and Rax took care of him. Shay sent out a warning to other bars in the area about him, and then we left. You came with me.” Keith is whispering now, Lance’s ear inches away. “We got back to my place, and my key was in my jacket, which you had on. I don’t know where your jean one is, though.” Keith let’s his fingers slide down Lance’s temple to his shoulder, and then down to his waist. Keith pulls him impossibly closer. 

   “I helped get you ready for bed. We were actually right about here on the couch. I pulled you over my shoulder to get the sweatpants up, and you puked on me.” Keith feels Lance huff out a laugh. “So, I set you up in bed after making you drink some water, and showered. Then I came back to bed and went to sleep. You puked twice more. Then morning came, and you should remember that, hey?” Keith nudges Lance with his forehead, letting it settle on Lance’s temple. Lance sighs, and leans back. Keith’s heart soars, and he can swear Lance can hear it.

   “Keith- fuck, I can’t thank you enough, man. I don’t remember it but that doesn’t matter. Sounds like you saved me from a world of hurt,” Lance whispers back, turning in Keith’s lap. Now, they’re really sharing breaths. The air has warmed, the intimacy increased. Keith can easily make out his face in the dark, light falling through a hole in the blanket making Lance’s eyes glow. Keith’s breath hitches. 

   Lance smiles soft and private at Keith and Keith thinks that _yes, this smile is only for me. I’m keeping it. All mine. Fuck you_.

   Squeezing their joined fingers, Lance brings them up so he can kiss Keith’s knuckles, eyes fluttering closed. Keith can hardly breathe, so instead he makes a sound deep in his throat that comes out high pitched. If his cheeks were pink before, now they’re cherry red. 

   Lance laughs quietly, bringing up the arm he had around Keith to touch the boys face. Keith nuzzles into it, because fuck, there’s no way he’s imagining this. Not now. If it doesn’t happen now it won’t happen ever. 

   Lance leans closer, untucking a leg so he can properly straddle Keith. He stares down at Keith, their hands still near his lips. Keith feels like he’s buzzing, and he’s sure Lance feels the same. Neither want to make the first move. The tension is stifling, and it’s not the first time they pined mutually and silently but it’s the first time with such simple but special actions.

   Lance sucks in a soft breath, before murmuring, “Fuck it,” and leaning down so that he can capture Keith’s mouth with his own. 

   Keith gasps, and surges tenderly up into Lance, solidifying the kiss and feeling the other boy nearly melt into him. Keith can hear his heart in his ears, his lungs clenching with his love for Lance. 

   Lance takes the lead and Keith lets him. The former tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and Keith slows it down to a languid press of lips and teasing of tongues. They separate to breathe but neither go far, keeping their foreheads pressed together. Lance meets Keith’s gaze, and grins that beautiful smile that Keith loves. The raven moves forwards to steal another kiss, smiling into it when he feels Lance’s hand on his cheek slide down to his neck, then to his collarbone, tracing patterns down his sternum, and flirting with his abs.

   Keith breaks away panting. Lance’s touch feels like electricity on his skin and he can feel himself becoming addicted to it. Lance looks back up shyly at Keith, cheeks painted red. “Can we...y’know...go back to bed?”

   Keith sits up straighter, supporting Lance with an arm around his back. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel obligated...” What if he was only paying him back for taking care of him? Keith doesn’t think his heart would be able to take another round of casual sex.

   Lance starts at Keith’s heartbroken expression, and quickly moves to kiss the expression off. Keith nearly moans at the ferocity of the kiss, the way it feels absolute. When Lance pulls away, he makes direct eye contact with Keith. “I want this. Dont think for one second that it’s meaningless. It never has been.” Lance pulls their joined hands to his face, pressing Keith’s hand to his cheek. “Y’know, I never hated you, mullet. Well, maybe at the very beginning. But now...”

   Lance leans down once again, and joins their lips in a soft dance. Keith gives as much as he receives, which is a lot. Lance conveys his feelings through actions, and the feeling Keith is getting from this is...

   “Lance, please, I-“

   “I love you, Keith. If you don’t feel the same, then it’s okay. I’ve accepted that, and-“

   “Lance! Jesus, shut up for a moment!” Keith laughs at Lance shocked expression, and he tugs him down to crush in a hug. When Lance blinks, Keith can feel it against his neck. “I love you, too, dumbass. I just never knew when to say it.”

   When Lance smiles, Keith can feel it on his skin. “Really?”

   “Really.”

   “You love me.”

   “I love you.”

   “I love you, too. Now, my hangover is still hurting me. Nap time!”

   Keith laughs, and tugs the blanket off. Lance squints at the sudden light before groaning and burying his face back in Keith’s neck. Back in his place of residence. “Ugh, screw moving.”

   Sniggering at Lance, Keith untangles their fingers only to wrap his arm under Lance’s bottom. He leans forwards, scooping Lance’s legs around his waist and he hoists the boy into the air. Lance yelps, tightening his grip around Keith’s neck and shoulders. Keith secured his hands on Lance’s ass and his back.  He raises a dark brow. “You good?”

   Lance exhales sharply, brave enough to run a hand down pale muscles fleetingly. Keith shivers, and Lance grins. “So strong,” he murmurs before leaning down and grabbing another kiss from Keith’s eager mouth. Keith huffs into it, tightening his grip on Lance who moans in turn. 

   “Keith. Bedroom. _Now_.”

   Keith doesn’t break away, navigating his apartment skillfully while keeping most of his attention on the person in his arms. He does, however, press Lance teasingly into the hallway wall, hiking his darker thighs higher around pale hips. Lance gasps and grabs hold of Keith’s face with both hands. He crosses his ankles behind Keith’s back tightly, and only breaks the kiss to travel down Keith’s jawline. 

   Lance explores Keith’s neck, pressing kisses and sucking marks into his skin. Sometimes, he nips an especially sensitive spot before soothing it with his tongue, Keith moaning and shaking under him. When Keith can’t take the teasing anymore, he pulls them away from the wall and sideways into his bedroom. He falls with Lance into the bed, catching himself inches above Lance and aligning their hips simultaneously. 

   Lance smirks at him, looking amazing with tussled hair and flushed cheeks on his blankets. “Smooth move, samurai.” Keith grins sideways, and dips down so he can latch onto Lance’s neck. Revenge is sweet, and even more so when Keith trails love bites down Lance’s collarbone, over his heaving chest, slowing at his abs, and tracing the whisper of hair above Lance’s waistband with his tongue, eyes on Lance the entire time.

   Keith let’s his fingers play with the elastic, question in his eyes, and Lance nods furiously.

   Tucking his fingertips under the sweats, Keith pulls them down softly, carefully sitting back to help Lance pull them all the way off. He tosses them somewhere ovet his shoulder, attention solely on Lance.

   Left in only navy blue boxers, Lance blushes under Keith’s unwavering gaze. He brushes his hands over his clavicle and down his chest, subconsciously following the path Keith’s mouth took. His erection shows clear through his briefs. “Like what you see?”

   Keith smirks down at Lance before shimmying his own pants off, and hesistating at the boxers. He meets Lance’s eyes. “How far do you wanna go? I mean, I’m cool with whatever, and-well, y’know, it’s up to you-“ Keith trips over his words nervously, butis graciously cut off when Lance sits up to kiss it away. When Keith feels Lance break away and make a dive for the nightstand, he grins, shucking his boxers off.

   When Lance turns around with the lube and condoms, he freezes and eyes Keith hungrily before ripping his underwear off at top speed and pulling the paler if the two down again. Lance kisses him deeply, momentarily shutting Keith’s brain down. _Fuck_ , everything is perfect about this boy. 

   With Keith rebooting, Lance grabs hold of his shoulders and rolls them so he’s on top, grinding their shafts together. The friction is amazing, and both moan their agreements. Lance fumbles for the lube, popping the cap easily. He reaches down, hand just big enough to hold their lengths together. The new slide makes it much better without fear of chafing. Lance moans when Keith joins in, aligning them more accurately. 

   “K-Keith, hold on,” Lance pants, drawing away from Keith for a second. He grabs the bottle again, smearing pre-come over the bottle before successfully getting it open. He lets some drip down his fingers, and rocking up higher on his knees around Keith’s hips, Lance reaches behind himself. The other hand goes down into Keith’s chest to steady himself, while he fucking fingers himself.

   Keith sits up, helping Lance stabilize his hand on his shoulder. “Fuck, Lance, that’s it. Work yourself open for me, baby.” Lance shudders at Keith’s words, whining when Keith reaches up and covers his entire hipbone with his hand, fingers trailing onto the curve of his ass. Keith holds the mildly trembling boy steady while he lets his mouth wander over Lance’s chest, playing with the nipples that he so teasingly skipped before. 

   Lance moans, and Keith can’t help but reach his and further back to help Lance. He’s already got two fingers stretching him, so when Keith adds another he’s rewarded with a higher pitched whimper and the sight of Lance’s cock bobbing. Keith smirks, letting Lance fuck himself back on his fingers. 

   “There you go, I bet you feel good, Lance, so good.” Lance stifles a loud moan, but just barely. He rolls his hips back, spine arching. “I bet you could come like this.”

   Lance glances down at Keith, who tilts his face up to kiss the bottom of his chin offhandedly. “I bet you could...but let’s save that for next time, hm?” Lance gasps as Keith surges up once again, this time pulling all fingers out of Lance and bracketing him in his arms against the bed. Lance hits the bed squarely, a little sound escaping him. Keith slots his nose against Lance, slots their hips together. 

   Lance grins at him. “Hey there, good lookin’.”

   “Hey yourself.” Keith plays with a curl of Lance’s hair. “Are you ready for more?”

   Lance’s grin widens, and he pressed a kiss to Keith’s lips. “You know it.”

   Keith pulls away from his lover, but only to grab a condom and the lube. No way is he causing Lance anymore pain that could be avoided. Keith clambers his way back to Lance, who’s eyes snap up just as he turns back. “Dude, your ass, though...”

   Keith blinks then blushes. “What about it?”

   Lance grins when Keith crawls back within grabbing distance, reaching both hands around to squeeze the pale cheeks. “It’s fucking amazing, that’s what’s about it.” Lance stops. “That didn’t make sense. Whatever. You’re ass is _the_ ass, the number one ass, the best ass-“

   “-Okay, enough about my ass!” Keith cuts Lance off with a solid raspberry to the stomach, sending Lance into a fit of shrieks and laughter.

   “K-Keith! Keith-no-stop! _Dios_ , you-!” Lance pushes his hands at Keith’s head, legs wrapping around his midsection and head thrown back. Keith laughs against Lance’s skin, holding the tops of Lance’s thighs. Lance flops back, and blows a breath out dramatically. 

   “You fucker.”

   “You love me.”

   “Fuck, I really do. Don’t leave me hanging here, babe.” Lance opens his legs, and Keith nearly explodes mentally. He hurriedly slips the condom down his shaft, hissing when he realizes that he hasn’t touched himself since they started, and shuffles closer to Lance. 

   Lance reaches down for the lube, and slicks up Keith even more. Keith tilts his head back and groans when Lance jacks his hand harder, squeezing when he reaches the base and head. Lance has a gleam in his eyes, one that isn’t just the light reflecting from the window. Keith clicks his tongue at him quietly, and Lance pulls off with a snicker. “Couldn’t help myself, you hottie.”

   Keith rolls his eyes but leans down, the soft atmosphere returning. “Ready?” He murmurs, to which Lance nods. They both gasp when Keith slowly enters Lance, spines stiffening minutely. Keith brushes at Lance’s hair, at his cheeks, helping him relax. Keith slowly pushes in more as he does, checking with him every so often. When Keith finally presses all the way in, Lance gasps and tightens around Keith, who groans in response. “You good?”

   “ _Mm_ , yeah, I am.” Lance shifts his hips, completely full of Keith, and runs a hand up Keith’s arm to wrap around his neck. He smiles softly, and Keith floods with want and emotion. Fuck, that _goddamn smile._

   Keith pulls his hips back slightly, monitoring Lance’s reactions before thrusting. Lance let’s out a small sound, but it doesn’t sound like pain. If the lust in Lance’s gaze is anything to go by, he’s enjoying the slight burn. Shit, that’s hotter than Keith realized.

   Keith adjusts Lance’s hips before setting a steady rhythm that makes them both weak. Lance matches each of Keith’s thrusts, trying to wiggle into a different angle so Keith can find his prostate, and Keith lets him. If Lance wants some of the control, fuck, he can have it. He can have everything Keith has to give.

   In the morning light, Keith ends down to brush his mouth against Lance’s; they’re too lost in each other to gather enough brain cells to kiss properly. Keith snaps his hips in one special angle, and Lance cries out, running his nails down Keith’s side. Keith shudders, making sure to nudge Lance’s prostate on every other thrust.

   Keith lowers himself to his elbows around Lance’s head, slowing his pounding hips slightly. He’s going to enjoy this. Sure, they’ve fucked before, but it’s different. Lance loves him back. He loves him back and Keith can finally show him what he’s always wanted to do.

   Before, they did kiss sometimes during sex, but they never held hands. There’s been enough handholding today alone for Keith to realize that this is real, but he’s going to do it again.

   “Lance, you close?” Keith grinds his words out, hips becoming jerky. Lance’s nod turns into a near shriek when Keith wraps a hand around his waiting cock, sensitive and almost dripping. Keith rubs the pre-come down his length, never faltering with his hips, coaxing soft moans out of Lance. “Come on, baby, that’s it.”

   Lance opens his eyes. “Keith- ‘m gonna-“

   Keith immediately let’s go of Lance’s shaft, searching instead for his hand. When he finds it, he curls his fingers around Lance’s and presses it deeply into the bed. Lance let’s out a breathless laugh of pure happiness, his eyes watering, before arching his chest towards Keith, crying out Keith’s name.

   Keith let’s out a sharp groan himself, Lance clenching down on him as they both release. White sparks out Keith’s vision, just like he knows ribbons of come decorate Lance’s chest, just like he knows they’re gonna be sore but he doesn’t care. It feels too good to be with Lance.

   Keith gasps, his arms wobbling as he tries to hold himself up. He grits his teeth against it, though, forcing himself to gently pull out of Lance, who lays on the bed as a pile of sweaty limbs, and gets up only to tie off the condom and throw it out. He collapses back on the bed and snuggles as close as he can to Lance, who does the same.

   Lance tangles his legs with Keith’s, and Keith brushes the sweaty hair away from Lance’s forehead. They reek of sex and sweat and Lance has come drying on his stomach but they’re the happiest they’ve been for a while. Keith noses his way closer to Lance and kisses him, soft and smooth. “I love you.” 

   Lance smiles, that fucking soft _smile_ that Keith claimed. “Love you, too.” He giggles, shuffling down so he can rest his head on Keith’s collarbone. The top of his head matches the curve of Keith’s shoulder and neck perfectly. Lance’s fingers trail over Keith’s abs, playing with the darkening marks that he left. “We-we’re together now, right?” Keith can hear the anxiety clouding his words. “I mean, you don’t have to and this doesn’t have to mean anything and I don’t want-“

   “-Lance.”

   “-Date me out of pity, or like you just want a fling-“

   “- _Lance_.”

   “-‘Cuz I don’t know if my heart could-“

   “-Lance!”

   “ _What?!_ ”

   “Do you want to be my boyfriend?”

   Lance relaxed against Keith, not realizing that he had been inching away. They never cuddled after sex before, so it must be different now because Keith has an arm wrapped around Lance and he’s pressing kisses against Lance’s head, and _holy shit_ -

   “Fuck yes.”

   Keith blows out the air in his cheeks, and hugs Lance tighter. “Good, because there’s no way you would have moved anyways.” 

   They stay like that for a few minutes, basking in the afterglow and each other’s company before cuddling gets too sticky and they start to smell worse. Keith, being adorably extra, gets the bath running for him and Lance while Lance tries to see if he can regain life in his legs. He falls on the floor every time, so when Keith comes back, he simply picks lance up again and carries him to the bathroom. 

   One time, Lance left a bunch of his bath salts and shampoos at Keith’s and just left them there, so now Keith utilizes them. He sets Lance in the tub before grabbing a bath bomb and handing it to Lance. Lance squeals in glee, peeling the plastic off as Keith grabs the soap from the cupboard. When he returns, Lance made room for him in front, so he slips in, loving the feel of Lance’s chest against his back. 

   Lance drops the bath bomb in, and both boys revel in the explosion of purple in the water. Keith plays with the bomb, laughing when it fizzles against his fingers. The smell of flowers or something fills the bathroom, and the boys spend too much time in there, washing each other and playing wth the suds. It’s just under an hour later when they finally pull the plug and dry off, dressing in boxers for Keith and briefs and joggers for Lance. Kisses and fleeting touches are exchanged the during the entire process, like they can’t keep their hands off each other. Really, though; they can’t.

   Now, Lance is laying on the couch, scrolling through his phone while Keith buzzes around his apartment, dropping by Lance for a kiss or to flick a curl on his head. Lance’s phone vibrates in his hand, and he touches the notification on the top of the screen to reveal an entire barrage of texts from Hunk, Shay, Matt, Pidge, take your pick. They’re all texting him, trying to see if he made it to Keith’s, what he remembers. Quickly, Lance makes a group chat and texts out a quick message:

**Lance** :   _hey guys. don’t worry, im completely ok._

   He gets an immediate response, his friends screaming at him over chat for answers. One catches his eye.

**Hunk** :   _ru and Keith ok?_

   “Keith?” Lance calls.

   “Yeah?”

   “Wanna take our first picture as a official couple?”

   Keith comes out from the bathroom, wet towels in his arms. Lance bites down a snicker when he sees an especially large hickey high on his neck, one that he won’t be able to hide. He drops them by the laundry machine, and walks over to Lance. Instead of just standing behind the couch like Lance thought he would, Keith crawls on top of Lance and wraps Lance’s arm around him. They hardly fit on the cushions, but they could care less. Lance kisses his head, smelling his own shampoo, and opens the camera on his phone.

   “Smile!”

   

 


End file.
